


The Winchester Gals

by phinnia



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 08:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22966972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phinnia/pseuds/phinnia
Summary: I'm sure this has been done, but remakes are always fun.   If John Winchester had had girls, things might have gone differently, or maybe they'd be the same.  CW:  Offscreen abortion, that sort of thing sucks.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Kudos: 1





	The Winchester Gals

Deanna Winchester slid under her fire-red '67 Impala on the creeper, trying to figure out where the oil leak was. 

"Samantha Marie, you march your ass back in here!"

"I will do no such thing!

She blew her dark brown bangs over her head. Parents. _Siblings_. Dad and Sammie never quit. They were always picking at each other, every damn time her younger sister came home to Kansas from Stanford on break. And her sister wasn't even going all California, either, she didn't even have a decent tan - she was always in the library, for God's sake, not even picking up hot guys. (Even ugly guys with good hearts. She didn't care, she just didn't want Sammie to be all alone out there.)

There it was. 

"Sneaky little fuck." she mutters, and solders it shut, burning her fingers in the process. "Shit!"

"Gimme a ride, Dee." Sammie gets in the car.

"Are you buying me a drink at least?" She pushes herself out with one boot.

"I would if you didn't look like a grease monkey."

"Shut up, bitch. I make this look _good_." But she does twirl the keys, on a ruby-red 'D' keyring, around her finger. Of course she'll give her little sister a ride. She'd do anything for that girl.

Deanna was three years old when the whole fucking situation went, as her dad would later say it, AWOL. Sammie was six months old. It was that night that their mother was possessed by a demon with yellow eyes. Then her dad saw 'the dark side' and he started hunting shit for real. Things that would make your piss turn thick and run back up to get back up in there, that kinda shit. Nightmares turned real. Things that would make your pubes turn white.

Dee was four when she learned to shoot a .22 and six when she could shoot a .45. She knew how make holy water, five ritual exorcisms by the time she was old enough to drive, and always kept rock salt around her windows and her bed. She could also run a pool table, count cards and bluff with a smile on her face and a pair of deuces. Plus, she rocked the hell out of a crop top and a pair of short shorts, although her preference was for jeans and plaid.

She could put her car together, take it apart and put it back together again without scratching the paint or breaking a fingernail.

She fucks the greasy car boys, the ones that were all hands and sweaty breath, but doesn't want to. It just feels like a way of passing the time between auto shop and detention. Dad was always on a hunt she couldn't talk about, and Sammie was always in the library, so what the fuck else was there to do, anyway?

Dad was on a hunt in Pennsylvania when the stick turned up pink.

She had no idea what to do, so she fled for California, and Stanford, and _Sammie_ , and fed her some story about Dad to get her out of the dorms for the weekend.

She has to get Sammie back to Stanford by Monday, and tries her best to keep that promise. When they get back, Sammie's dorm was on fire, her boyfriend was dead, and Dee was still, unfortunately pregnant. Jesse had died the same way that their mother had. Big fucking fire. They stick around for a week. Nothing.

Unfortunately, peanut M&Ms and 7-11 hot dogs are terrible for a developing child.

"Are you sick?" Sammie asks. "That's the third time this morning you've puked on the side of the road."

"M'fine." Dee wiped her face on the sleeve of her plaid shirt.

"You don't look fine. Stop lying." Sammie hands her a water, and she drinks some of it and spits in the dirt to clear her mouth. "Dee-dee."

"Don't call me that." 

"Talk to me!"

She walks off of the side of the road, staring into the distance of rocks and brush and blue horizon. She can hear Sammie's shoes on the gravel, pink sneakers following her. 

"Talk to me, Dee-dee." Sammie squats down in front of her. "Please."

"I'm pregnant." Her voice sounds far away. 

"Are you sure?" Sammie says. "Are you _absolutely_ sure?"

"I did three of those test things. Is that sure?"

"Okay." She paces around. "Okay. You need -"

"I _need_ to get this baby the fuck out of me, Sammie. I am _not_ a mom. Where am I gonna put the baby, the backseat?" She looks at the car. "I am like, the furthest thing from a mom, and card games, pool and hunting the weird do not pay for baby food."

"Are you sure?" Sammie looks up at her with big green eyes. "No takebacks on this one, Dee."

"So fucking sure." She wasn't, and at the same time, she still was. It's funny how the heart can hold so many feelings at once. 

Sammie goes with her to the appointment. She even goes inside and holds Dee's hand while the ... procedure ... happens.

It hurts. Like cramps, but a fuck of a lot worse than cramps. Cramps, if they were done by a wood chipper. Not as bad as getting shot - she's been shot once or twice - but pretty bad.

Dee curls around a pillow that night, counting the minutes between painkillers and wishing she hadn't been so damn stupid with Cassidy.

"Do you know who the baby's father was?" Sammie asks her a couple of days later.

Dee swaps the cassette for another one. "You're just going to be a massive pain in my ass about this, like you always are, right?"

"Yup." She ties her dirty blonde hair back in a ponytail and puts on pink lip gloss. "I totally am, little sister's right. So spill."

"It's not important." She says. "We're not really a thing anymore anyway and he doesn't want to see me again."

They go to Pennsylvania, and they find the Woman in White, and they take her home. 

They also get their dad's journal. 

Then they get called up to Michigan. And hunt down a wendigo. 

They go to Wisconsin and she sees the kid. The kid who can't speak. And her damaged fucking heart goes out to the little guy.

"Do you have kids?" Andrea asks her. 

"Nope." She says, and tries to sound casual about it. "But ... I like Lucas." 

She doesn't say that he reminds her of the baby that could have been hers.


End file.
